'You're awfully proud for a peasant,' he cried. 'And you're awfully proud for a lord.' And thus began the tale of the duke, and the old crone who lived in the papery hut half-teetering into the sea. You may have guessed the woman to be of the magical sort, a witch perhaps, or even a siren that haunted the edges of the grey lake. And you would be right, in your own way. Perhaps you believe this tale will end with the duke becoming transfigured into a toad or a slug or some other slimy creature to reflect his slimy self. You forget that magic does not make this a fairy tale.